


Through His Eyes

by sumnawaz



Category: Blood and Ash Series - Jennifer L. Armentrout
Genre: Angst, F/M, From blood and ash, Hawke's POV, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27781978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumnawaz/pseuds/sumnawaz
Summary: 3 scenes from From Blood and Ash that from Hawke Flynn's perspective.
Relationships: Penellaphe Balfour/Casteel Da'Neer, Penellaphe Da'Neer/Casteel Da'Neer, Poppy Balfour/Casteel Da'Neer, Poppy Balfour/Hawke Flynn, Poppy Da'Neer/Casteel Da'Neer
Comments: 14
Kudos: 108





	Through His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> honestly the summary says it all; i wanted to write a couple of scenes from the first book in Hawke/Cas's point of view, so here's three of them. all characters belong to Jennifer L. Armentrout, including the dialogue in this fic since it's basically only rewritten in a different perspective than what's in the book.

  * _When he sees her scars + is sworn in as her guard_



She walked into the office with the calmness expected of the Maiden, and I almost laughed, the sight of her starkly different than when she all but ran into my room at the Red Pearl just nights ago. This time, she walked behind one of her Royal Guards, Vikter, and alongside her lady’s maid. Keeping my expression blank was something I’d excelled at over the years as I watched the Ascendeds’ precious Maiden, Penellaphe Balfour, walk in dressed in a white gown that covered everything, looked godsdamn near suffocating, and hid away the full curves I’d been allowed to look at—to  _ touch _ —recently. I swear, my skin still electrified with the memory of having this woman under me, no matter how hard I tried to keep those images at bay.

The entirety of her face was covered by a white veil with golden chains, save for her jaw and those berry red lips I’d gotten a taste of. Lips I craved to feel, to taste, again.

I remained quiet, gaze fixated on Penellaphe, on the green eyes hidden behind the veil. I listened as the Duchess greeted her before the Duke began getting into the reason for why we were gathered. And I watched as Penellaphe’s hands clenched into fists in her lap when the Duke got Rylan’s—the guard  _ I’d _ orchestrated the death of—name wrong repeatedly.

The way the Duke spoke to Penellaphe, as if she were somehow beneath him, was confusing, I hated to admit. From what I knew, the Maiden was held in high regard by the people of Solis—it was the entire reason as to why she was the center point of my plan to free Malik—so to hear the Duke speak to her almost. . . Distastefully. . . I fought the urge to frown.

I listened as the Duke informed Penellaphe that I was to be her guard, and would’ve laughed when I noticed the subtle tensing of her muscles. She hadn’t spoken a word since she’d arrived, and I suspected it was due to our encounter at the Red Pearl. Maybe she believed if she remained quiet, I wouldn’t recognize her voice and—what? She believed I would report her late night adventures to the Duke and Duchess? 

If only she knew that tightening security around her would make my own personal job very difficult.

“. . . With Hawke being assigned to you, we would be able, for the most part, to avoid that situation.”

I was only half listening to what Jansen was saying, but noticed as Penellaphe’s head moved, just enough for her gaze to land on me. Upon her stare, I inclined my head in acknowledgement, and I wondered just how worried she was about our encounter at the Red Pearl.

“As a member of the Maiden’s personal Royal Guard, it is likely that a situation may occur where you will see her unveiled. . .” I lifted my chin ever so slightly at the Duchess’s words, realizing what was about to occur. 

The Commander was dismissed, and once he was outside of the office, I felt the anticipation buzz in my veins, recognizing a subtle tension in the room as the Duke finally said, “Penellaphe, please, reveal yourself.”

I kept my gaze on her as she hesitated for a few moments. Was she truly so frightened that I would out her little Red Pearl adventure? She remained unmoving, even when the Duke, with a tone of warning I easily picked up on, told her we didn’t have all day.

And then the Duchess spoke. “Give her a moment, Dorian. You know why she hesitates. We have time.”

_ Why she hesitates _ ? That meant there was a more common reason, a known reason, as to why Penellaphe was slow to remove the veil, not just because of a fear of recognition on my part.

But I watched as Penellaphe raised her hands, unclasping the chains as her lady’s maid rose to help lift off the headdress. The red hair I’d hooked my finger around was tied back tightly and neatly in a bun at the bottom of the back of her head, no strands framing her face. My attention, however, went to her mouth, watching as a subtle, almost mocking, smile twitched at her lips and surprise and amusement struck through me as I noticed that it was directed towards the Duke.

Clearly there was some kind of animosity between them. Interesting.

My gaze drank in the sight of her, only her right profile visible, showing off a strong jaw and smooth skin and those familiar green eyes I kept thinking about despite myself.

And then she turned.

She was, unsurprisingly, so unexpected.

She was stunning, irrevocably so, and the scars that were etched into her skin didn’t change the fact. I drank in the sight of her, gaze roaming every single inch of her face, ignoring the sudden tightness in my chest that couldn’t be good news. I wondered how she received those scars, what she could have possibly gone through to get them, and how she survived. 

The Maiden was a surprise. A beautiful, unexpected surprise. And I had a distinct feeling I was going to be fucked.

Especially when I finally trailed my gaze up and my eyes locked with hers, holding her stare. She didn’t blink, and her gaze. . . It was almost challenging. Like she was waiting for some kind of reaction on my part once I took in her scars. She would not get one. Not any sort of negative one, at least. Because she was stunning. And as unprepared for that as I was, it was still undeniable.

“She’s truly unique, isn’t she?” I could see the way she stiffened at the Duke’s voice, and it was only decades’ worth of training that I didn’t shove the blade of my sword through the bastard’s chest. Especially when he uttered those next words. “Half of her face is a masterpiece. The other half a nightmare.”

Motherfucker. In that moment, I found myself making a promise; I wouldn’t leave here with the Duke alive. That was already the plan, of course, but his words only reinforced the idea.

I didn’t tear my gaze away from Penellaphe, who did her best not to react to the Duke’s words. I took a step forward, looking straight at her, as I uttered my truth, “Both halves are as beautiful as the whole.”

Penellaphe’s lips parted and I could hear the breath she took, as if my words weren’t ones she heard often. In the back of my mind, I could hear a voice saying,  _ That would change _ .

I placed my hand on the hilt of my broadsword and bowed slightly, making this transition as her guard official, though I never looked away from her. And she stared right back, surprise etched into her features as I spoke, “With my sword and with my life, I vow to keep you safe, Penellaphe.” 

Words that were lies but. . . Also were not. 

“From this moment until the last moment, I am yours.”

  * _When the priestess is about to slap her_



It seemed that only Penellaphe’s reading voice made the—inaccurate—history of the  _ War of Two Kings _ bearable to listen to. I stood in the corner as Penellaphe had her lesson with the Priestess and I could tell, as she read from that monster of a book, that this was the last place she wanted to be. Unsurprising, given that she liked to spend her time running through town to the Red Pearl—or end up on the damned Rise, fighting off Craven.

Unexpected. She was so godsdamned unexpected. When I recognized her on the Rise, I almost couldn’t fucking believe it. She’d been there, with a bow and arrow, striking down Craven without any hint of fear in her eyes—had pointed it right at  _ me _ before attempting to make her escape. Fearless and wild, the Maiden was proving, time and time again, that there was so much more to her than anyone was led to believe. And I. . . I did not blame her for her actions, especially after the talk we had when we returned from the Rise. 

She refused to be afraid after what happened to her parents and I could not fault her for that.

I admired her.

I took a silent breath, posture straight, as Penellaphe continued reading from the book even after I received a glare from the Priestess after confirming Penellaphe’s pronunciation—which the Priestess, of course, didn’t appreciate. Not that I gave a fuck.

But then things took a turn, and suddenly the Priestess’s tone turned hard and I watched as she leaned forward and gripped Penellaphe’s chin between her fingers as she spoke to her. My eyebrows twitched together, eyes narrowing as I noticed the tight grip she had as Penellaphe responded to her. It seemed as though she was questioning something she’d read and that didn’t sit well with the Priestess.

But it was interesting—the Ascendeds’ beloved Maiden questioning her skepticism. Time and time again, she kept proving to me that she wasn’t some puppet of theirs as I had believed. And that realization. . . I didn’t know what that meant. 

And then Penellaphe’s voice turned sharp, demanding, as she asked, “What would happen if I didn’t Ascend? How would that stop the others from Ascending? Would the gods refuse to give their blood so freely—”

The blood in my veins grew hot as the Priestess’s arm cocked back and, as soon as it did, I moved, the anger flaring inside quicker than I ever thought, though I didn’t miss the lack of surprise on Penellaphe’s face when the Priestess lifted her hand. Fuck.

My hand caught the Priestess’s wrist, and I tried my damndest not to snap the thin thing in my grasp. The Priestess jolted, gaze shooting up to meet my glare as I demanded, “Remove your fingers from the Maiden’s chin. Now.”

She was going to  _ hit _ Penellaphe, and judging by her reaction, I would say this wouldn’t be the first time this happened. And that pissed me off more than I could ever expect. I shouldn’t be too surprised, though, I reminded myself.

These weren’t even people. These were fucking monsters.

“How dare you touch me?” Priestess Analia demanded, and I had to stop myself from breaking her wrist then and there. Across from her Penellaphe remained silent, frozen in her seat as she watched. 

My gaze was fixated on the Priestess, however, feeling the acidic taste coat my tongue as I glared at her. “How dare you lay a single finger on the Maiden?” I said, feeling the tightness of my jaw in my words. The Priestess looked incredulous, indignant, at my interruption, but I didn’t give a fuck. I wasn’t going to just fucking stand around and watch Penellaphe get hit just for the fucking fun of it. “Perhaps I was not clear enough for you. Remove your hand from the Maiden, or I will act upon your attempt to harm her. And I can assure you, me touching you will be the least of your concerns.”

I wasn’t quite sure if Penellaphe was breathing as she watched, but I kept my glare trained on the Priestess, who seemed to be trembling with unkempt rage. She would not raise another hand on Penellaphe.

And the fact that she’d already been subjected to this kind of treatment only livened the motivation to get her out of here.

Except I was beginning to wonder  _ what _ exactly that motivation was now.

  * _When he sees her on the night of the Rite_



It was a sea of red and my jaw tightened at the sight of all of these people gathered for the Rite. People whose children were destined to  _ Ascend _ and people whose children were, unbeknownst to them, going to be sacrificed. It had been easy to sneak the Tulis family out of the kingdom, saving their infant son from a fate worse than death. I could only wish I could’ve done more for others. 

I weaved past the people as I entered the hall where everyone was gathered, eyes searching to find who I was looking for. And then I found her. 

She stood between Vikter and Tawny, but the red of her hair was recognizable from behind. I blinked once, realizing belatedly that she was wearing something other than her white Maiden garb. Instead, she was in a gown, red to match the night, and I longed for her to turn around. 

I took a few steps towards her and watched as Poppy’s shoulders straightened and, as if somehow sensing my presence, turned around. 

And I stopped. 

The red mask covering the top half of her face was a familiar sight, visions of those moments in the Red Pearl playing through my mind involuntarily. She looked stunning, the crimson gown somehow matching well with her red hair, as the skirt of the dress swished around her feet. 

Breathtaking. Her eyes were lined with kohl, bringing out the stunning green, and lips that were painted red curved upwards in a smile that I was. . . So unworthy of. My gaze trailed over her figure, drinking in the sight of her standing before me, unashamed in the way I let my stare burn through her skin.

“Hi,” Poppy greeted, her voice a breathless sound that was the only thing worth hearing in the otherwise loud room. 

I felt my lips kick up at her greeting as I neared where they stood, unable to tear my gaze from her as Vikter and Tawny turned to me. Eyes still on Poppy, I said, “You look. . . Lovely.”

Her smile widened, the sight dipping my stomach, and not for the first time I realized I was completely fucked.

  
  



End file.
